


A Little Girl and a Mirror

by zenonaa



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: F/M, Togafuka Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 08:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2382125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenonaa/pseuds/zenonaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Touko's son asks for a bedtime story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Girl and a Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> the tofu kids are fukawasama's on tumblr i hope i did them justice

The Togami residence contained many different genres of books and it would be an insult to think otherwise. Touko and Byakuya not owning a vast collection of literature? It was a terrible insult to even consider the possibility of such a thing. However, what their personal library did lack - yes, their shelves upon shelves of tightly packed books lacked in something - were children books. Books that children actually wanted to read, and neither parent realised how limited their library was in this regard until their son requested a bedtime story one night.

Byakuya was out on work-related business and Touko had been toiling for hours on her current work in progress, fingers tapping furiously against computer keys, and she was so engrossed that she didn’t hear the door of her study creak open.

“Mother?” came Byakuya Jr.’s abrupt voice.

Touko whipped around. In the doorway stood Byakuya Jr., an indistinct shadow lit up only by her computer monitor. The back of her neck prickled.

“You should be asleep,” she said, conscious of how heavy her eyelids felt. When she had started her current writing session, a sufficient amount of sunlight poured in through her window so she didn’t bothered flicking on the light switch, and she had refused to get up to turn the lights on once outside got dark lest she lose her train of thought.

“I tried but the storm’s too loud.” Byakuya Jr.’s shoulders lowered and the rest of his body soon relaxed as well. Not completely, but enough for her to notice. Cautious optimism seeped into his tone. “Can you tell me a story?”

She hesitated.

“Not from a book,” he hurriedly added. “I want you to make one up for me.”

Touko bit her lip, trying to remember the last time she read her son a story let alone created one for him specifically. A year ago sounded right; he learned to read at an early age, as expected from a Togami. She asked, “Are you sure you can’t go to sleep by yourself?”

He nodded, hooking a finger around the corner of his mouth. Doing that was a habit she suspected he picked up from her and one that she knew Byakuya cared little for.

“Fine, I’ll tell you a story.” Touko stood up and stretched out her limbs, her vision speckled for a few moments as it adjusted to the dark. “Only a short one though...”

Byakuya Jr. grinned and accompanied his mother out of the study and down the unilluminated hallway. The second, younger Togami child slept in the room next to Byakuya Jr.’s and Touko peeked inside to check on her daughter before proceeding any further.

Kimiko was asleep in her bed, her murmurs melding with the wind from the storm outside. Her sheer curtains had been drawn together but the pink blackout panels hadn’t, so forks of lightning still lit up the room. One flashed now and thunder grumbled a second after, giving them a clearer view of Kimiko lying in her bed, and Byakuya Jr. squeezed his mother’s hand.

She closed the door quietly.

When they arrived at Byakuya Jr.’s room, he scampered to his bed and rested his back against the headboard. He pulled his blanket over his legs, watching his mother cross the room and sit on the edge of his bed. Their only source of light came from his bedside lamp.

Touko twisted her body around, holding onto her skirt with both hands. “So... what do you want a story about?”

Byakuya Jr. furrowed his brow in thought.

“What about the story of how your father and I met?” Touko suggested.

“I’ve heard that one already,” he said. Kimiko preferred that story anyway, though not for the romance: she liked the parts which Touko liked least. Byakuya Jr. hunched up his shoulders. “What about the first story you ever created?”

“Huh? The first story I ever...?” Touko blinked in surprise. “I... I don’t know, it’s been a long time...”

His face fell.

“But I suppose I can try to remember.” She inhaled, looking at the ceiling. “The earliest one I remember involved a little girl and a mirror.”

He wiggled into a comfortable position. “That will do, Mother.”

Touko nodded, not just to him but to herself as well. “In a cottage by the woods lived a girl called Amarante, and she lived with her mother and father. The early years of her life were very much carefree. She helped her father with chores, like chopping wood and cleaning, while her mother went to work in a faraway town. Amarante’s mother was an artist and she sold her paintings at the market there. Her paintings were very good but not many people bought them, so the family had just enough to survive. The only aspect Amarante didn’t like about her family was that she didn’t get to spend much time with her mother, who always seemed too busy. Amarante tried to paint like her mother but never made anything that met her own high expectations.”

“What about school?” Byakuya Jr. piped up.

“Amarante’s father taught her at home.” Touko tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “So as I was saying, the early years of Amarante’s life were carefree. But then, one day, her mother brought back a full length wall mirror. She explained to her husband and daughter that an old woman had used it to pay for a commissioned painting.”

Byakuya Jr. slipped a hand under his blanket and raised it to his chin.

“The mirror was kept in her mother’s art room that no one was ever allowed to visit. This disappointed Amarante, who wanted to admire herself in the mirror, so she forced these thoughts to the back of her mind and tried to ignore them as best she could. Amarante’s mother left for the market early the next morning and returned home after Amarante went to sleep, and the following day played out the same way. Almost two weeks passed without Amarante seeing her mother at all. Finally, Amarante grew so desperate that she opened the door to her mother’s study so she could see her again. She knew she would get in trouble for trespassing but she didn’t care. So she opened the door and...”

Touko paused.

“And?” Byakuya Jr. whispered, leaning forward slightly.

She shook her head and continued. “And... her mother greeted her at the door.”

He let out a sigh of relief as if he had expected Amarante’s mother to eat her daughter.

“‘Come in,’ her mother said, beckoning Amarante inside.” Touko shifted, her knees knocking together two times. “Amarante stayed by the door initially, too shocked to remember how to walk. Her mother had never let anyone in until now. However, the invitation was too tempting, so she-”

“Mama?”

A jolt shot up Touko’s body. She and her son turned their heads, staring at the door.

There stood Kimiko, pouting, hands on her hips. “Are you telling Big Bro a story without me?”

“I thought you were asleep,” Touko said, somewhat recovered from the startle that Kimiko gave her.

“Nope!” Kimiko skipped over and jumped onto the bed, landing beside her brother who moved over to the side a bit to make room for her. She squirmed. “I want more story. What happened to Ama and her mama?”

“Well,” said Touko, “Amarante looked around the study for the first time in her life. Paintings were hung all over the walls, each unique. Some had landscapes, others portrayed her family, and a few were of...”

“Ponies!” Kimiko flung up her arms, whacking her brother in the face with the back of her hand.

He winced, rubbing at his cheek, but didn’t say anything.

“... And a few were of  ponies,” Touko allowed reluctantly. “There was also an easel and lots of different coloured paints...”

“Like pink?” asked Kimiko.

“Yes, among others.” Touko clasped her hands together. “Amarante’s mother watched her daughter tour the room. All the paintings were beautiful - Amarante had seen a few of them before but never for long. Her mouth hung open and she soon wandered over to the mirror.”

Byakuya Jr. frowned at the mention of the mirror.

In contrast, Kimiko was as upbeat as ever. “How many paintings were there? Five? Six? Eleventy?”

“That’s not relevant to the plot,” Touko said.

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it’s...” Touko closed her eyes for a several seconds. “... One hundred.”

“Who counted? What are they all of?”

“Kimiko,” Byakuya Jr. said before Touko could respond, “let Mother continue the story.”

“But I really need to know,” whined Kimiko.

“Thirty were of landscapes, twenty paintings were of cows grazing, forty of the paintings were of their family and the last ten were of ponies,” Byakuya Jr. said.

This was why Touko disliked telling stories to other people, especially children even if they were her own. In general, people asked questions that would be answered later in the plot or questions they would know the answer to if they had a shred of intelligence, and she disliked how people habitually focused on insignificant details while disregarding layers of themes that she painstakingly wove. Satisfying everyone would be near impossible, which was why she tried to write stories that she would enjoy rather than what other people would enjoy.

His answer seemed to satisfy Kimiko if only because her tiredness moderated any desire she had for a more specific description. Her head bobbed forward and Touko interpreted it as permission for the story to continue.

Touko said, “Amarante studied her reflection in the mirror and gasped. Because... Because the reflection was wrong.” She separated her hands and pressed them against her lap.

Byakuya Jr. and Kimiko jerked up their chins, eyes wide, but thankfully stayed quiet.

“In the mirror was a wicked girl who looked remarkably similar to Amarante, only the reflection had cruel eyes, a taller height and a thinner build,” Touko said. “And behind this girl, inside the mirror, Amarante’s real mother shouted something but Amarante couldn’t hear what. She turned around, heart thudding, and came face-to-face with the woman pretending to be her mother, the imposter bearing the same wolfish grin as Amarante’s reflection.”

“... Wow,” Kimiko said. “So did Ama’s fake mama gobble her up?”

“No,” Byakuya Jr. retorted, glancing anxiously at Touko. “Amarante’s mother didn’t eat her, did she?”

Touko pinched the bit of skin between her eyebrows, suppressing a sigh. “No. Amarante’s mother wanted to swap Amarante with the mirrored Amarante, so Amarante sprinted past her imposter mother and into the garden where her father was tending to the garden. Or at least, where her father should have been...”

“Ama’s fake mama gobbled him up!” Kimiko squealed.

“I think he just went through the mirror,” Byakuya Jr. told her.

“He did,” Touko said. “Amarante had no choice but to find the woman who sold her mother the mirror, so she ran as fast as she could through the woods with her fake parents someway behind her. She thought she lost them and stopped to rest, leaning against a tree, but then her fake parents leaped out in front of her. Amarante thought they were going to capture her but a masked figure swooped down from the branches above her head. He straightened up and-”

“Is the love interest really necessary?” said a voice from the doorway.

Touko yelped, Byakuya Jr. pulled his blanket up to his nose and Kimiko laughed.

“Daddy!” Kimiko waved both her hands, vibrating with excitement. “Mama’s telling us a story about a girl, and her mother paints ponies.”

Byakuya strode over, arms folded over his chest. He seated himself next to Touko. “Isn’t it a little late for stories?”

Kimiko puffed out her cheeks. “Daddy, let Mama finish the story.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Fine. So, Touko,” he turned to her, “what happened after this masked vigilante who was conveniently nearby descended from the tree?”

Touko twitched. “Oh! Well... I, um...” She twiddled her thumbs. “The masked vigilante brandished his sword and told Amarante to follow him to safety. So she she did, keeping to his side, and-”

“Father,” Byakuya Jr. suddenly said, “you’ve made my blanket wet.”

“It’s because he’s been out in the storm,” Kimiko explained, prodding Byakuya’s arm. “You’re going to have to take your clothes off and rub your body with a dry towel so you don’t get sick. That’s what Auntie Hina says. But don’t do it in here, ‘kay?”

Byakuya muttered something under his breath that Touko didn’t catch.

Kimiko giggled.

“Don’t tell her I said that,” Byakuya said.

“Mother, please resume the story,” said Byakuya Jr., glaring at the other two.

Annoyance spiked in Touko at the unnecessary command but the emotion alleviated because he said ‘please’ and because someone other than her was eager for the story to continue. “Amarante and the masked stranger found refuge in an abandoned cottage...”

“How fortunate,” remarked Byakuya.

“Daddy!” Kimiko kicked him with the heel of her foot. “Hush!”

Byakuya stood up. Touko thought he intended to leave the room but he instead sat down next to Kimiko. He wrested Byakuya Jr.’s pillow from under Kimiko and propped it up behind the other two so they wouldn’t hurt their backs. They shifted over a bit to give their father enough space to sit somewhat comfortably and Byakuya placed his feet onto Touko’s lap.

“This... stranger introduced himself as Hanshi, a boy who ran away from home to search for treasure,” said Touko, eyeing Byakuya’s slippers. “Amarante explained what happened to her and he agreed to help her find the previous owner of the mirror.”

“Why?” Byakuya asked.

Kimiko snuggled up against his arm. “Daddy, you keep talking!”

“It’s a valid question. What does he have to gain from helping her?”

“The story is from Amarante’s point of view and he hasn’t told her why, so she doesn’t know yet.” Touko paused, giving her family an opportunity to ask more questions, and she spoke again when all three said nothing. “They trekked to the market and passed the time by talking about themselves. Hanshi came from a long way away and was searching for the shoreline. He used to reside in the mountains, where the sky was a gradient of blues lying atop rows of snowy peaks. Daytime was pretty as was night, but neither compared to the inbetweens. At those times, in the cerulean and indigo and cobalt overhead, wisps of auburn clouds drifted along and the horizon glowed saffron which reminded Hanshi of sand even if he had never seen a beach before.”

Touko’s eyes swam with the scenery she conjured.

“And the lake that he could see from his rickety cottage reflected those warm colours during these inbetweens. However, in recent times, merely observing the transitional periods no longer satisfied Hanshi. He yearned to reach those distant reds and yellows and be set aflame. He had grown tired of being bathed in blues and greys that numbed his skin and he yearned to see real sand and whatever else that lurked beyond the mountains. Amarante, she listened, transfixed, imagining herself submerged in colours too. She imagined herself being free and unchained like he was. Right now she needed to rescue her parents but he had enchanted her, and she promised to help him in return for his kindness...”

All this talk of colours and long words went over Kimiko’s head, and she blinked a few times, but the males listened in awe. It wasn’t just the words that drew the pair in but how Touko spoke them.

Her smile grew. “Amarante expressed her desire to explore and Hanshi laughed. She didn’t know why and would have asked but their arrival at the market preoccupied them. Neither had any details to go on so they resorted to asking around. Hours crawled by but no one knew this woman. Amarante was on the verge of giving up but then Hanshi suggested they do what her mother did to get this woman’s attention before. In all likelihood, the woman had since moved on but they needed to try. Hanshi bought paper and paint with his traveling money and they got to work.”

Lightning flashed outside. Thunder growled after with minimal delay.

Kimiko’s eyelids fluttered, ultimately closing.

Byakuya Jr. unsuccessfully stifled a yawn.

“Soon enough, an old woman approached the pair,” Touko said quietly. “She offered them a mirror for their paintings. Amarante leaped to her feet and demanded the woman return her parents to normal and explain why she gave her mother an evil mirror.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to info dump her motivation,” Byakuya mumbled, freeing his arm from under Kimiko’s head and bending it around her shoulders in a loose embrace. “No one does that in real life.”

Touko shut her mouth for a short time. Then she opened it. “The old woman aimed the mirror at Amarante, showing her the wicked reflection within. Amarante backed away just as a hand came through the glass, reaching for her. Amarante’s fake parents caught up to them and staggered over. Hanshi got out his sword and that was when he revealed that he had come from the mirror world, where he existed as but a reflection that only saw the world when his crueler other self came to the mirror. He had been created when the old woman used her spells with purer intentions, before her power corrupted her and warped her sense of justice. And... And he had intended to rob Amarante later but became enamoured with her, plainness at all, and now he couldn’t bring himself to do her harm...”

Byakuya snorted, trying not to smile.

“Hanshi explained that the only way to save her parents was to use words. So she...” Touko realised both children had fallen asleep. “Oh... I guess... that’s it then...”

“What are you saying?” Byakuya asked, grabbing her wrist. He slipped his hand up to hers and entwined their fingers. “I’m still awake. Tell me, Touko, how did Amarante use words to stop the mirror creatures?” He lay down, careful not to wake the other two, and pulled her closer so she was lying partially on top of him. The bed could barely accommodate them all and a single push threatened to send Byakuya to the floor.

Touko’s face warmed. “W-Well, the old woman used physical images to trap people inside the mirrors so Amarante simply had to describe her real parents to swap them back. So she did and the mirror sucked them in, and the old woman as well, which should have been the happily ever after. But... But Hanshi said he needed to go back. It was only fair to his other self and with Amarante, he had seen everything that he needed to see. So she described him...”

“What did he look like?”

“His hair reminded her of sand sifting through her fingers and his eyes were a cloudless sky that the longer she stared into them, the more shades she discovered. Amarante painted him with words, detailing his eyelashes and his smile, and the soothing rumble of his voice that was like the ocean, and he disappeared back into the mirror to be replaced with his other self. This Hanshi wasn’t as perfect as the one that Amarante became attached to, but they grew to love each other.”

She paused, listening to Byakuya’s heartbeat. Grinning, Touko nestled against him and went to sleep as well.

* * *

 By morning, the two children had slumped out of their sitting positions and curled up next to their parents.

 


End file.
